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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27450514">I've been thinking myself to death</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz'>Elisexyz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Once Upon a Time (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(All three of them are together), (It's Regina's POV and Emma and Neal don't have any scenes together but it's there), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baelfire | Neal Cassidy Lives, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Evil Queen | Regina Mills Has Self-esteem Issues, Minor Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Emma Swan, Multi, Polyamory, and issues in general</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:14:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,689</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27450514</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It’s stupid. It’s okay if it’s not her place to comfort Emma, she just—wants it to be.</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan, Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I've been thinking myself to death</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>PSA: Apparently, I accidentally posted this instead of saving it as a draft... I'm a moron LOL. I'm leaving it up since a couple of people have already read it, but I have done little to no editing so I'll likely come back to it and change a few things... sorry XD (Thank god I already had a title... usually I save drafts as stuff like "aaa" or "hhh")<br/>
EDIT: Alright, I've done one (1) quick round of editing, which will have to do for tonight, but I will come back to it in the next few days. I apologize to those who read the version with like a typo in every other sentence, I hope you enjoyed this little trip in my head XD<br/>
Also, I'm leaving these notes for posterity, and more specifically for anyone who hasn't realized that I definitely am the "she is not stupid, but she is a <i>dumbass</i>" type.<br/>
<br/>
Written for <a href="https://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/634247159485710336/helloooo-i-was-wonderinggg-if-i-could-maybe-prompt">this prompt on Tumblr</a>, from someone who clearly shares my taste in fics LOL. I think it can stand on its own if you can roll with Neal being alive and established OT3, otherwise here's <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25857574">a getting-together fic</a>.<br/>
The title is from "Safe" by Banners. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For all that she’s been mulling over this for days, when she ends up doing something about it it’s on a whim.</p><p>“I need you to teach me something,” she says, arms crossed and voice as steady and imposing as she could make it, even though she can feel her bones tremble with nervousness and there’s a corner of her mind screaming that this is <em>stupid</em> and she should just turn around and—</p><p>Neal turns to her, not the least bit intimidated by or worried about her grim tone. “I hope it has nothing to do with retrieving old rollerblades,” he says, working his way through what’s very clearly a box of <em>Christmas</em> <em>decorations</em>. “Because apparently I suck at it.” He pouts at the box, then he turns to her. “Are you sure that you’ve stuffed all of Henry’s old things here?”</p><p>He's been searching for an old pair of rollerblades for one of the kids that they brought back from Neverland and that ended up getting swapped back with the second curse, so Regina directed him towards the room she uses for storage. Then, she paced around mulling over her own problems for a while and she eventually decided to corner him there to take advantage of the fact that it’d just be two of them in the room, at least. She had assumed he’d find them fairly quickly, though.</p><p>“I didn’t <em>stuff</em> anything,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’ve <em>organized</em> it, in boxes, so explain to me why you are going through Christmas decorations? They are not there, I can tell you that much.”</p><p>Neal blinks at her, then at the box, seemingly dumbfounded. Regina is willing to bet that he’s simply disorganized enough that it didn’t occur to him that someone else would have enough common sense <em>not</em> to throw everything together.</p><p>She sighs. “Try that shelf,” she suggests, with a brief gesture. “Or the one next to it.”</p><p>He mutters a thank you, launching himself back to work, and Regina isn’t sure if she’s hoping that she’s gotten away with it or looking for a way to start that conversation again, but before she can decide he turns back to her. “Oh, right, what did you want to ask me?” he says, making the floor wobble under her feet.</p><p>This was a terrible idea.</p><p>It is one thing to mull over her inadequacy all on her own, but to get <em>him</em> involved—she wants to laugh, because she’d actually thought, shortly after the beginning, that having Neal as her boyfriend too would make things <em>easier</em>. Everyone is on equal ground, now being involved in their activities makes her feel less like a charity case, reading the situation as just Emma wanting to keep her second-best option around seems to make a little less sense each day—except she keeps finding new faults in this new situation, and if before she only had to deal with Emma, while Neal mostly kept at least a bit of respectful distance from her, now he’s looking at her with his eyebrows furrowed in concern, <em>evaluating</em> her like he wants to read past whatever face she’s making right now.</p><p>“Hey, is something wrong?” he asks, gently, as he steps away from the shelves and seems ready to move in her direction.</p><p>Another complication of having Neal as her partner is that Regina <em>gets</em> it now, more than she possibly could have before.</p><p>He’s—<em>nice</em>. Steady and non-threatening. Of course Emma would turn to <em>him</em> for help, why wouldn’t she? It shouldn’t even bother Regina, it’s <em>stupid</em>, she—she knows that she has her uses, in this house. She is the only one out of the three of them with any real culinary skills, for starters. She is good for playing bad cop when Henry is acting up and Emma doesn’t feel up to it, and there are small problems that can easily be fixed with magic—there are things that she can <em>do</em>, she <em>knows</em> that she has her place in this family.</p><p>Yet, it stings just how little Emma turns to her comfort, how she’s always running to Neal.</p><p>She doesn’t think she was ever good for that, even when it was just the two of them: they were always better at commiserating elbow to elbow, and at sex, later, so she can’t exactly blame <em>him</em>, but—if Emma has had a long day, it’s Neal’s arms that she dives into. If something is bothering her, it’s him that she lets poke at her until she scrambles up some sort of explanation. Three nights ago, Emma apparently woke up in the middle of the night, and in the morning Regina found them on the couch, holed up under a blanket, empty bags of snacks left next to them and Neal looking at her apologetically as he said: “We didn’t want to wake you.”</p><p>Of course they didn’t, she wouldn’t have been good for anything.</p><p>It’s stupid. It’s okay if it’s not her place to comfort Emma, she just—wants it to be.</p><p>She can learn, she’s been learning harder things, right?</p><p>“Regina? You’re scaring me,” Neal prompts, a few steps closer than before and probably about to yell for help, judging by his nervous smile.</p><p>“How do you comfort people?” she blurts out, wincing a little at the phrasing.</p><p>Neal blinks at her. “I—” He breaks into half a laugh. “What?”</p><p>She inhales, pressing her arms tighter against her chest. “I’m serious.”</p><p>“No, yeah, I, uhm, I can see that—” He takes a nervous look around. “This feels like a conversation we should not be having standing up,” he mutters to himself. After a few more moments of searching, he comes up with an awkward smile and gestures next to him.</p><p>“The <em>floor</em>?” she says, sceptical. “You want us to sit on the <em>floor</em>?”</p><p>“Unless you want to go grab two chairs and hope no one asks what the hell you are doing, yeah.”</p><p>You know what? Fair enough, this is stupid anyway.</p><p>(It will also make it harder for her to turn around and run.)</p><p>“So,” Neal eventually says, sitting cross-legged at a reasonable distance from her. “Why exactly are you asking me that?”</p><p>She huffs. “Because I want to know, clearly.”</p><p>“Yeah, right, but, uhm—you don’t—need my help? With that?”</p><p>“Don’t I?” she echoes, like a challenge, because if he’s going to <em>lie</em> to her in the name of being nice she isn’t about to let it slide. “I am not exactly the most comforting person in this town.”</p><p>“Henry likes you just fine for that,” he points out, slowly, like he’s still trying to catch up.</p><p>“It’s because I <em>raised</em> him, not because I am or ever was particularly good at it,” she says, matter-of-fact. In fact, being a decent parent is a learning curve, and she’s acutely aware of how only recently she’s come to be on the good side of it. The fact that Henry still loves her speaks more of his character than it does hers: he has a heart big enough to welcome villages.</p><p>“Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have options now,” Neal reasons. “If you sucked at it, don’t you think he’d be more likely to come to me or Emma? I get that he knows you better, but still, he does come to us occasionally, why not do it more often if you were so bad at it?”</p><p>“Force of habit,” she says, tightly. She doesn’t even think Henry goes to her that much more frequently than his other two parents, really.</p><p>“Come on. Clearly he thinks you are comforting enough.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, Emma doesn’t agree,” she spits out then, eager to throw a stone that he can’t dodge. It’s humiliating enough having to admit to her worries, if not exactly explicitly, why can’t he just—give her advice and be on his merry way?</p><p>Neal blinks at her, confused. “Uh—what? Did she say that?”</p><p>“She doesn’t need to.”</p><p>He doesn’t look very convinced. “…Right.”</p><p>They sit in silence for a much longer time than she’d be comfortable with, but she doesn’t have anything to say to fix it – and isn’t that exactly the problem?</p><p>“No, alright, sorry, I’m confused,” he eventually admits, throwing his hands up. “Where is this coming from? If she didn’t say anything—”</p><p>She snorts. “She always comes to <em>you</em> when she needs help, isn’t that saying enough?”</p><p>“I mean—I think it depends on what you mean by help?” he says, tentatively. “Of course she comes to me when she wants a hug, I’m the hugs dispenser in this relationship.”</p><p>She raises her eyebrows, barely keeping herself from asking what the hell he is talking about.</p><p>He smiles a little, amused. “You are both cuddlers in denial, in case you hadn’t noticed,” he says, and he looks a little too delighted by the turn that the conversation has taken. “You take them when they are offered but you wouldn’t admit to enjoying snuggling under pain of torture, and she just—aggressively throws herself at me when she wants a hug, because she knows I’m always up to it. I can’t imagine that working with <em>you</em>.”</p><p>“<em>That’s</em>—” she begins to protest, offended, but she finds that she doesn’t have much to defend either of them with. He’s not <em>wrong</em>, it’s just— “That is <em>not</em> the problem.”</p><p>“Isn’t it?”</p><p>“It’s—in general.” <em>She likes you better</em>.</p><p>He sighs. “Okay, listen—don’t hate me for this, but you are going to have to talk to her about it. I don’t know what else to tell you.”</p><p>“I don’t <em>need</em> you to tell me why I’m wrong to ask this,” she hisses, her stomach burning in irritation and her shame growing more overwhelming, because she <em>asked</em> and she still gets <em>nothing</em>— “I just need you to answer my question so I can be more—less—”</p><p>“Regina,” he interrupts, gently. He waits until she looks – or better, glares, or so she intends to do – at him before continuing. “Emma loves you.”</p><p>He says it so surely, like it’s a truth set in stone, and, well, maybe she does, she’s said as much, it’s not that, it’s—maybe Emma means it <em>now</em>, but—how can she ever hope to keep this if she can’t do something as simple as being a comforting presence to her? How long until she and Neal learn how to get by without her at all?</p><p>“Just talk to her, I’m sure that she can put to rest whatever is troubling you so much <em>far</em> better than I can.”</p><p>“She will be <em>so</em> thrilled to do that,” she comments, finding some comfort in how easily the sarcasm comes to her.</p><p>He snorts, amused. “She can have emotional talks when it counts,” he says, gently. “And you being upset is definitely worth the effort.”</p><p>“Right,” she mutters, feeling ridiculously small as her eyes skirt away.</p><p>He doesn’t talk for a few moments. “So,” he eventually says, clicking his tongue. She dares taking a look at him, finding that he’s leaning forward a bit, hands on his knees. “Would it be very insensitive of me to offer to hug you right now?”</p><p>She lets out half a laugh, her genuine amusement breaking through everything for a second, and as he smiles affectionately she finds herself scooting in his direction, until they are two idiots sitting on the floor while clinging to each other. Between the dusty boxes around them and the old, dim light in the room, they probably look like they came straight out of some imminent-end-of-the-world kind of movie.</p><p>Still, she tucks herself in the crook of his neck, feeling her shoulders drop when he wraps himself around her and rubs her back in comfort. She’s glad that this spot is for her too, at least.</p><p>“I was thinking,” he says, slowly. “If you want to talk to Emma tonight, or tomorrow night, I don’t know—my dad has been bugging me because he wants me to come to dinner, and I’m sure he’d love to see Henry too, so—I could take him, leave you the house free for the talk.”</p><p>Regina feels herself curl a little around him, going stiff, and he must notice too, because he gives her a squeeze.</p><p>“And for the post-talk celebration, of course, once the air has cleared,” he adds then, jokingly. “I’ll try not to be jealous of all the fun you’ll have without me.”</p><p>She huffs, tilting her head just enough to bump against his jaw. “What if she dumps me instead?”</p><p>“She won’t.” He should probably stop sounding so sure about things he can hardly promise.</p><p>She hums in acknowledgement, far from convinced.</p><p>He sighs. “Okay, in the unlikely event that that happens, just—lock yourselves in separate rooms and give me a call. I’ll find a way to magically split myself in two, I’m assuming that’s a thing—”</p><p>“Hardly,” she says, a little amused in spite of herself.</p><p>“—or I’ll just—run back and forth. Ten minutes each or something. I’ll work it out, I’m resourceful like that.”</p><p>She snorts, shaking her head slightly and trying to cling to the thought that it might almost be worth it, just to see him try. It would be amusing. Crashing and burning wouldn’t be <em>all</em> bad.</p><p>Judging by the dread crawling its way through her stomach, she isn’t doing a very good job at convincing herself.</p><p>“It will be fine,” Neal says, quietly.</p><p>When he lays a kiss on her temple, she takes it with her eyes closed and trying desperately to believe him.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Emma comes home with a sour expression and the appearance of someone who rolled on the ground in the woods.</p><p>“Don’t ask,” she mutters, at the sight of Regina’s raised eyebrows, leaning over for a quick peck on the lips. A leaf falls from her hair when she pulls back, and Emma looks at it like it personally wronged her. “I’ll go take a shower,” she says, tiredly.</p><p>It's probably not the best atmosphere for this, but—well, Neal is out, Henry is out, and if Regina has to carry this weight in her stomach for another single day she is going to <em>throw up</em>.</p><p>Normally, she could just pretend like nothing is going on, but she made the fatal mistake of telling Neal about it, so—he <em>knows</em>, she can see it on his face whenever he’s thinking about it, and she can’t stand this situation. It’s best to resolve it quickly.</p><p>She finishes setting up the table as she readies dinner, breathing through the familiar motions and trying to find some comfort in them, though the fact that there are only two plates is kind of a big reminder that something is <em>different</em> today.</p><p>God, she really should have kept quiet about this.</p><p>She doesn’t want to <em>know</em>.</p><p>She doesn’t want to watch the realization hit Emma, to witness the moment when she realizes that she has nothing to say to counter Regina’s fears. She should have just cut her losses when Neal showed up, this relationship business is <em>not worth it</em>.</p><p>When Emma comes back from her shower, her hair not all the way dry yet and some clean clothes on, she looks a lot more alert than before, nipping Regina’s excuse not to deal with this in the bud. Wonderful.</p><p>Emma frowns. “Is it just us?”</p><p>Regina is probably being paranoid when she thinks it sounds a little disappointed.</p><p>“Dinner at Rumple’s,” she says, turning to grab the rice.</p><p>“Oh, right, Neal mentioned that.” Emma snorts. “I’ll salute his noble sacrifice, <em>I</em> would have dragged the both of you kicking and screaming to avoid dealing with a family dinner on my own.”</p><p>When she smiles to acknowledge the comment, Regina could swear that her lips feel stiff.</p><p> </p><p>Dinner goes by—oddly quietly.</p><p>She is not hungry, and she ends up playing around with the rice, barely touching the chicken, her stomach churning at the thought of the conversation that she is <em>supposed</em> to be having but that—she doesn’t even know how to start. She doesn’t even know if this is a reasonable moment to have it, isn’t it rude to bother someone during dinner? She should let her finish at least, Emma looks famished – well, she always looks famished after work, but still.</p><p>Maybe she should just do it another day, it’s so rare that they get to have a night just the two of them, she probably shouldn’t ruin it.</p><p>Also, it might be best to do this when she can’t see Emma’s face. Like in bed, in the dark. Possibly after a round of sex, when Emma is in a good mood.</p><p>“You’re quiet,” Emma comments, sudden enough that Regina can’t quite hide a flinch at the sound.</p><p>“I’m eating,” she shrugs, quickly shoving a piece of chicken in her mouth as if that could be enough to prove her point.</p><p>Emma raises her eyebrows. “Right,” she says, slowly. She studies her for a few seconds. “Pass me the salad, will you?” she eventually adds, seemingly deciding to let it go.</p><p>Emma starts making some small talk after that, Regina gladly following along so that it doesn’t seem like a monologue, a bit of her anxiety melting away thanks to the distraction.</p><p>She will just—bring it up. Later.</p><p> </p><p>Or maybe not, maybe she really should do this another day.</p><p>Emma insists to help with the dishes, even though she probably wants nothing better than to curl up on the couch, and they end up moving around the kitchen, dancing around each other with practiced ease, eventually settling on Regina washing and Emma drying.</p><p>The silence starts growing uncomfortable fast, not because it’s <em>unusual</em> for them to do things elbow to elbow without acknowledging each other, but because with no chatter left to distract her there’s nothing stopping her anxieties from eating at her stomach.</p><p>This is a really bad time to bring it up. And she hasn’t yet decided <em>how</em> to bring it up. Not to mention, she got Neal involved and she’s been regretting it ever since, has she learned nothing? Once the cat is out of the bag it’s <em>out of the bag</em>, there is nothing to be done but regretting her choice to speak up, she really should be <em>sure</em>, this time, before she says anything.</p><p>She can bribe Neal to keep his mouth shut, can’t she? Hell, she might just be desperate enough to murder him, just getting to the root of the problem, but she <em>likes</em> the bastard, and so do Henry and Emma, not to mention that she’s trying to be a good person here, so no, not an option. It wouldn’t be that difficult to brew him a potion to make him forget everything, though. Still unethical, but better than murder or actually <em>talking</em> about this—</p><p>“I can hear you thinking,” Emma says, lightly elbowing her to catch her attention. Her tone is teasing, her smile affectionate, but Regina is just about on edge enough that for a second she feared she meant it <em>literally</em>. “Care to share? I’ve had the same stupid song stuck in my head for the past two hours, it’s driving me insane and I’d love a distraction.”</p><p>Alright, quick, she just needs to come up with something—<em>anything</em>—anything that isn’t <em>this</em>—</p><p>But Emma is staring at her, all—all beautiful and friendly and domestic, like she belongs right there next to her, and Regina <em>really</em> doesn’t want to lose this and—</p><p>“Am I doing something wrong?” she blurts out, her voice just a little unsteady.</p><p>Ah, crap.</p><p>Emma blinks at her. “I—do you mean—with the dishes…?”</p><p>Regina’s heart has leaped to her throat, and she doesn’t think she can swallow around it.</p><p>She just did it again, how <em>stupid</em> can she be, really— “No,” she says, quietly. She sets down the plate in her hands, because she doesn’t really think it’s a good idea for her to be holding something fragile right now, and she turns around so that she’s facing her, thinking that maybe if she can seem a little more confident it will help. “I mean with us.” This time, it sounds a lot steadier, somehow. Small mercies.</p><p>Emma looks decidedly confused. “No,” she says, immediately, like the mere thought is absurd. “What are you talking about?”  </p><p><em>Alright, Regina, you made your bed</em>— “I want you to be—” She swallows. “—comfortable. With me.”</p><p>“I <em>am</em>,” she stresses, her frown deepening. “What makes you think I’m not?”</p><p>Regina isn’t even sure if she wants to explain herself. Part of her wants to cut the conversation off, leave it to this, hope that if she replays it enough times in her head it will start to ring true.</p><p>“Regina?” Emma calls, taking a step towards her and searching for her eyes until they meet hers. “Talk to me, what do you mean?”</p><p>Regina opens her mouth, vaguely thinking that she could brush it off, try to advert her attention from the beginning of that conversation, do it another time, or possibly <em>never</em>—but Emma is staring, and she wants <em>so</em> badly to trust her— “You never come to me, when you need help,” she says, too quickly, the words blending together a little.</p><p>Emma looks stunned, and Regina thinks she should stop, but she just—doesn’t.</p><p>“I understand that I am not—I’m not particularly <em>kind</em>, or comforting, I understand why you’d rather go to him when you need support, but I can change, I can do better, I just need—I just need you to tell me what I’m doing wrong. Neal says it’s all in my head and it’s just that he’s the only hugger in this relationship, and perhaps that’s true, but—I can <em>see</em> that you don’t turn to me the same way you do with him, and I know it’s stupid and it shouldn’t bother me, but I—I want to learn how to help, I want you to come to me too when you need support, I—I can learn.”</p><p>She takes a breath, feeling a little lightheaded as she stands there, Emma’s wide eyes weighting heavily on her, making her aware of how <em>still</em> she’s standing. She flexes her fingers, struggling to swallow in spite of how dry her mouth is.</p><p>“I—” Emma eventually begins, cutting herself off a second later. “I don’t even know what to say, I—”</p><p>Regina feels the urge to apologize, but the words don’t come.</p><p>“Regina, that is <em>not true</em>,” she says then. She sounds distressed, and it makes irritation flare in Regina’s stomach, for some reason.</p><p>“What isn’t?”</p><p>“None of it!” Emma snaps, flipping the air. “I—god, okay, I don’t—why do you think I don’t want to come to you for help?”</p><p>“Because you <em>don’t</em>,” Regina stresses, and she thinks that her irritation is beginning to show. “If you have had a bad day, you go to him. If you wake up in the middle of the night, you go to <em>him</em>. Before at least we commiserated together, now—” She trials off, unsure of what else to say.</p><p>The look on Emma’s face would be funny, under different circumstances.</p><p>“What—what are you <em>talking</em> about, I—” She stops, shaking her head once. “Alright, first of all, I don’t <em>go</em> to anybody if I wake up in the middle of the night, and if you are talking about last week specifically, he was already awake, and we figured—people like sleeping! It didn’t seem nice to wake you up for no reason!”</p><p>Okay, so perhaps that was a stupid example. Her point still stands.</p><p>“And in general, I just—Regina, I may not ask you to hug it better, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t <em>make</em> it better.”</p><p>She blinks at her, her breath catching in her throat when Emma scrambles up a smile.</p><p>“Alright, so, remember, uh—two weeks ago, was it? When you spent the whole Sunday with Mary Margaret, basically?”</p><p>Regina nods, feeling a little dazed.</p><p>“Yeah, well, I think it’s a miracle that Neal didn’t murder me half-way through the day, I was in <em>such</em> a bad mood—we’d barely seen each other during the week, and then I was at home but you weren’t, I was <em>so</em> cranky—and when you came home, I didn’t need to ask you to make me feel better, you just <em>did</em>, by being around me, you <em>always</em> do, I—”</p><p>Emma steps forward, grabbing her wrist and giving her a little experimental tug, sliding her hand into hers when Regina tentatively moves an inch closer. There’s still something weighting on her stomach, but it feels more like warm anticipation that stone-cold dread.</p><p>“My favourite part of the day is coming home to you. When I was in Boston, I <em>hated</em> that part, I had an empty apartment waiting for me, dinner to prepare so I could eat it alone—”</p><p>“I wouldn’t call anything that you cook ‘dinner’,” Regina interrupts her, something in her sagging in relief at the opening to pull them in more familiar territory.</p><p>Emma gives her a look that’s half-way between affectionate and exasperated. “<em>Still</em>, it was horrible, and now—now, I know that when I come home I have someone waiting for me. You are pretty much always here, and even when it was just the two of us, I just—I loved thinking about coming home to you. If I’m having one of those long, exhausting days, that is one of the things that I always look forward to, and—you don’t need to <em>change</em> to help me, I don’t want you to be another Neal, one is more than enough, thank you, I—you are plenty comforting enough as it is.”</p><p>Regina figures she should say something to that. As it is, she’s a little too choked up with relief to try.</p><p>Emma looks at her a little hesitantly. “Do I have to go on?” she asks, only half-way joking. “I have more if you need it.”</p><p>She doesn’t know if she’d <em>need</em> it, but she highly doubts that she can handle it at the moment.</p><p>She shakes her head, her eyes burning rather insistently and her whole body vibrating in relief. “Sorry,” she says, hoarsely, though she isn’t sure what for. It just seems like the right thing to say.</p><p>Emma shakes her head and pulls her into a hug, with enough force that Regina feels herself stagger a little. She ends up pressed tightly against her, slowly breathing out as she claws at her shirt and she feels Emma’s arms somehow tightening around her, like she doesn’t want to let her run off. It’s a good thing that everything in her wants to cling to her just as hard.</p><p>Emma takes a breath. “I <em>think</em> we should leave the rest of the dishes and go watch sappy movies,” she breathes out then. “Crying is allowed and even encouraged, but it stays between us.”</p><p>That tears a bit of a shaky laugh out of Regina, startling her first and foremost. “You just don’t want to finish cleaning.”</p><p>“I mean, do <em>you</em>? We are having a moment here.”</p><p>Fair enough. She <em>is</em> a bit reluctant to just—step back and pretend like nothing happened. Crying over sappy movies, whereas they are usually busy competing over who has the better horror movie tolerance – Neal isn’t even allowed in the competition, he’s <em>that</em> bad –, feels just about unusual enough to be right.</p><p>“Fine. Sappy movies it is.”</p><p>Even as they step away from each other, Emma keeps lingering around her, brushing against her arm, squeezing her hand, until they have settled on the couch with one blanket and no space between them.</p><p>Regina can still feel unshed tears pushing behind her eyes, the lump in her throat not having left her quite yet, but Emma is warm next to her, and for a second there, leaning against her and letting herself relax, she forgets to try as hard to fit in, she just—lets herself be, for once.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This story is part of the <a href="https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject">LLF Comment Project</a>, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates comments, including:
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